


it's been a while (but i still feel the same)

by eyesonfire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, One Shot, Ouch, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:01:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesonfire/pseuds/eyesonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if you truly love something, let it go. if it doesn't come back it was never yours to begin with, isn't that what they say? but zayn doesn't need to let liam go to know he would never come back. </p><p>liam's never been his to let go, never been his to give away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's been a while (but i still feel the same)

**Author's Note:**

> this could be considered a sequel to my one shot "do you ever wonder if the stars shine out for you?", or it can be read stand alone. 
> 
> ed sheeran, "give me love"

(dearly beloved, we are gathered here today)

 

the day is here, and the day is bright and the day feels suspiciously like a thick lump in zayn's throat that he can't speak past. the sky is blue and the sun is shining and of course it's a perfect day. of course, nothing is wrong. because they're perfect, perfect seperately and together and of course it's only right that the day matches them.

it's their day, after all.

 

(do you, liam james payne?)

 

yes. yes he does. it's the only answer, the only word that can be said and it's completely, utterly true. yes, i do. yes, he does. his voice is close to zayn's ear, their heads close. it's everything that zayn can hear, it reverbaertes in his brain, knocking off the walls of his skull and bouncing around, leaving imprints and echoes as it goes.

 

yes, i do.

 

(and do you?)

 

yes, of course i do zayn wants to shout. he wants to scream it, he wants to grab liam's shoulders and yell into his face that yes, i do. yes i would. i love you.

but it's not the time or place, and so he simply smiles gently at liam, and that's all that needs to be said.

the moment is coming, a ticking in the sweat on the palms of zayn's hands. his fingers tremble, and his knees shake. it's coming, closer and closer, he can feel it breathing on the back of his neck.

the moment arises, it holds, a violin note wavering before the fall. it stretches, it grows, they wait. silence.

 

(does any person here have any reason why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony?)

 

the moment breaks. it's gone, and zayn nearly lets out a shaky breath. his eyes shut of their own accord, blocking out all he can see. he missed it, the moment drifting past, a leaf on the water, just out of reach. with his eyes shut, zayn can almost pretend he's anywhere but here. he can't pretend, even to himself, that he was ever going to say anything.

 

(to have and to hold)

 

but zayn never had, and zayn never held. he stands, silent and still, bowed head and hunched shoulders. he doesn't even try to summon the energy to force a smile on to his face. it would come out as more of a grimace even if he tried. he doesn't even make an effort to pretend his heart isn't being slowly clawed out of his chest and ground into the dirt by the friendly, smiling, completely fucking oblivious heel of liam payne.

he stands, a shoulder away from him, so close that he thinks his breath might tickle the back of liam's neck, might ruffle the hair he keeps short now because she likes it that way.

he watches the ground, one lone floorbaord, picking it to pieces with his eyes. he hopes that it splinters, that his eyes are stabbed by small, sharps slivers of wood, and maybe then he wouldn't have to stay, wouldn't have to watch.

the love of his life stands before him in the front of a chapel and pledges his forever to someone who isn't him.

 

(i now pronounce you husband and wife)

 

nothing happens, the world doesnt crash off it's axis, doesn't erupt into flames. people don't scream, or claw at their faces in agony. fire doesn't consume everything, an earthquake doesn't shatter this holy fucking chapel into ruins.

people just smile a little brighter, eyes a little tearier, they're all a little happier. and why should they not? zayn's the only one here who's forever was stolen, the only one here who's world was being shaken out from under his feet; he a pesky, stubborn piece of dirt that clung on long after it would be reasonable to give up.

 

(you may kiss the bride)

 

you may close your eyes, zayn hears. you may close your eyes and pretend you can't see this happening. pretend you can't hear their happy whispers. pretend a whole fucking lot and change absolutely nothing.

if you truly love something, let it go. if it doesn't come back it was never yours to begin with, isn't that what they say? but zayn doesn't need to let liam go to know he would never come back. liam's never been his to let go, never been his to give away.

 

(ladies and gentlemen; mr and mrs liam payne)

 

they're sickeningly, disgustingly, beautifully happy. she's gorgeous, all long, lean limbs and flying hair and bright white smile and white dress swirling around her as she twirls in liam's arms.

he's stunning, amazing, perfection, he's beyond any word that's ever been invented, beyond anything the human language can convey and zayn almost wants to sheild his eyes from the vision of him, so beautiful it hurts. but he doesn't (masochist) and he continues to stick burning needles into his own skin as he watches mr and mrs liam payne dance perfectly together.

"you're perfect for each other," he says in his numb, emotionless best man speech, and the worst thing is; it's true. they love each other fully and completely, because that's just how liam loves and how people love liam. she loves him with her whole heart, and his face lights up around her.

its worse; he can't even hate her, because she makes liam so, so happy.

he's the only one who knows that he could have loved him better. he's the only one who knows that however much she loves him, it's a drop of rain into the ocean of love that zayn swims in for liam.

help, he wants to yell. i'm drowning.

she can hold him, but he could have held him harder. she can kiss him, but he would have kissed him better. she can love him, but he can love him stronger. but she has him, and he never will. he sits in his too tight suit at the bridal table, too many eyes on him, watching him, trying to figure out why liam payne's best friend and best man isn't smiling like the rest of them.

i'm drowning.

 

he made his choice long ago, but he didn't realise the reality would hurt quite this much. he can't bring himself to tell the truth during his speech, can't bring himself to make it funny or sweet or anything other than numb.

"you're beautiful," he says, and lets everyone assume he's talking to her instead. "i know you'll have a happy and beautiful life together."

and they would, zayn can see it painted on the inside of his skull, staining the bone red and purple and orange, vibrant and happy and wonderful and why would their lives be anything but perfect?

zayn always thought drowning would have been more peaceful than it really was.

he sists, speech over, and people clap and 'awww' and wipe their eyes and it's meaningless to zayn. everything is meaningless. life, music, reason.

his pride won't let him leave, his masochism keeps him seated. a silent penance for all his wrongs. he watches mr and mrs liam payne dance slowly to a gorgeous tune that zayn is too far under to appreciate.

niall keeps him company, keeps the wine company. sergeant peppers lonely hearts club band. but no, that's not right anymore, because even niall has someone. even niall found a secret sun to keep for a rainy day and even clueless, precious niall was smart enough to fall in love with someone that could love him back.

another glass gone, another song finished. he dances with her parents, and she with his, and zayn clenches his fingers together where no one can see. there's calls for the groomsmen to dance with the bridesmaids, and zayn takes one of her friends gently in his arms, leading her to the dance floor. her eyes are too bright, make up smeared in streams down her face. she's smiling, laughing, so happy for her friends. her breath, when it ghosts across zayn's face is sweet like wine, and her hair streams around her shoulders. she's pretty, gorgeous even, and he tells her so without really meaning it, wishing he could fall in love with her.

"thank you," she says breathily and giggles like red wine, and zayn can't stomach the thought of taking it any furthur.

"i'm sorry," he tells her, leading her off the floor and pulling her chair out for her as soon as the song is finished. she's confused, unsure as to what he's apologising for. he doesn't really know himself anymore. 

he tries to slink around the edge of the dance floor, heading toward the bar and something stronger than sweet wine, but he only knocks back two before he's noticed and he closes his eyes and begs for strength and dignity.

 

"zayn!" the bride giggles, and her smooth, long arms are twining around his neck as she pulls him out to the dance floor. her eyes are bright, gorgeous, euphoria bubbling like champange in the depths. zayn thinks that maybe loving liam makes anyone beautiful.

"thank you," she says hot and sweet into his ear, tugging him close against the music.

he doesn't reply, because he doesn't trust himself and he doesn't know what would fly out of his mouth if he opened it. he places his hands loosely on her thin waist instead, not wanting to say anything that would take but a moment to ruin every stone he ever laid in this goddamn sandpit.

"for everything," she continues, and she lays her head down on his suited shoulder as they slowly revolve.

"he loves you," he tells her, the only thing he can say that's the truth. his voice is wet and vodka.

"i know," she says, and what else could she have said? she's the one liam married today, and she knows that as much as she loves liam, he loves her. her world must be a beautiful place, zayn thinks, nearly bitterly, but bitter is an emotion and zayn can't feel.

"he loves you too, you know," she says, and zayn stills, limbs seizing. his heart thumps too loud. traitorous. he thinks she can maybe hear it, maybe feel it punching a beat against his ribcage. zayn wants to rip it out, to get rid of it and throw it away and maybe a gaping hole in his chest would hurt less.

"you're his best friend." ouch. zayn smiles tightly, swallows heavily. she leans back, catches his eye, and there is a flicker of something. zayn half thinks that she might know, might have guessed that he's completely, pathetically, desperately in love with her husband. he deserved that. the shame burns heavy and bitter in his throat.

humilitation.

regret.

he knows what she's doing, her words carefully crafted to let him know that he'll never be more than his best friend, as if he needed reminding, and he still can't hate her. because all he ever wanted was for liam to be happy. and if he were lucky enough to have been the one to win liam, been the one that was brave enough to speak up and take the leap and keep him, he would have staked his claim too. because liam is one in a million, one in six billion, one in the universe, and if he were her, he would be smart enough to never let him go.

liam's only ever always been amazing and zayn's only ever always loved him. 

"i'm sorry." the words slip out of his mouth, uninvited. vodka tongue and whiskey teeth, he wants to snatch the words out of the air as soon as they leave him. but it's true, he can't lie. he's sorry he ever fell in love with liam, sorry he ever made himself this vulnerable and this pathetic and this wrung out.

she looks him hard in the eye, intense and calculating. the music doesn't stop but the room feels silent. he swallows, wipes his hands on his suit pants.

she's debating something, weighing it up, and zayn feels inadequate under her gaze. small, insignificant. 

"thank you," she says finally. decision made. thank you for what? he wants to ask. thank you for letting liam go? thank you for not fighting for him? thank you for being a coward?

he doesn't know, but he somehow has her forgiveness, her pity, and it doesn't make him feel any better. he half considers feeling sorry for himself, but that will do him no good and liam will still be married to the beauty in front of him.

he wonders if she thinks he ever had a chance, wonders if she knows he didn't make the choice to let him go. he never had liam in the first place, there were no ropes to release, no strings to untie. just a secret, bound in his hands behind his own back by his own cowardice and a determination to see liam happy. no matter what.

"you deserve him," he says to her, and the words burn like bourbon in his throat. self loathing cuts a cold path up his neck. his voice cracks a little. because she was brave enough. she fought. she won.

"hey, don't you steal my wife, mister!" liam is laughing, radiant, stunning, and he jokingly claps a hand on zayns shoulder. it pushes all the breath out of zayn in a forceful exhale, and his organs all seem to swell in size. his heart almost flutters at the contact, the solid, warm feel of liam, but then he sees liam's other arm winding intimatly around her thin waist, and his heart curls into a stone and drops to the bottom of his stomach.

she's not the one i want to steal away, he wants to say, but he can't. he can't ruin all the pretty castles built on sand, shaky enough ground as it is.

he nods at liam, half of his mouth pulled up in an attempt at a smile, and he leans in to kiss them both on the cheek. as soft as hers is, his is rough, and the feel of his cheek under his lips tastes like goodbye.

the smell of her roses clings to his suit and he wants to rip it off, longs to burn it and every photograph and every memory he ever had of liam. but then he turns and sees liam's smiling face as he leans down to kiss his bride as they dance and he can't even sustain the bitter anger.

because this is what he wanted, this is all he ever wanted for liam. no matter what. and if his sacrifice is his heart and his future, then so be it. he made his own bed, years ago, young at the bungalow, made the choice to stay silent out of fear when louis and harry were yelling. fear held him then, and now it's too late.

the bar is bright, comforting. safe. familiar.

the barman knows, he can see. bartenders know all kinds of dirty secrets, paid in cash and information. drink loosened tongues, easy secrets.

 

(rough night?)

 

yes. make it a double. a triple. make it stop hurting. make me forget where i am. make me forget my name, make me forget his name.

one, two, three shots better. three shots closer to not feeling like this.

four, five, six shots more. bartender, another.

he's not forgetting anything. the bar is blurring beneath his fingertips, but his name still owns his head. liam. liam. liam.

 

(drinking won't change the past)

 

i know, but i can forget it. another, thank you. more.

he's lost count, drinks coming quickly. he's not alone at the bar, but there's no one near him. he's alone everywhere else.

"it doesn't matter how hard you love someone; if you don't tell them, they'll never know," the bartender tells him. he doesn't bother asking how he knew. if he knew, or if zayn had been telling him. he's not sure anymore.

"i couldn't," he says, trying to look at the bartender. "i couldn't and now i can't."

the lights sway dizzily in zayns vision, the seat beneath him swimming sickly. he places a hand on the bar to steady himself, gulping in air as a defense against the steel in his throat.

"zayn," he hears behind him, and he doesn't turn from the bar. he wishes the smell of whatever he's drinking will smother the smell of roses, but the smell of them still seeps into his nostrils, hits the back of his throat, clouding his air with their sickly sweet.

"are you okay?" louis is sitting beside him, sympathy and concern. he can feel sympathy, can pity zayn, but he can't empathize. because as much as louis can feel sorry for him, he can't understand. of course he can't. he has harry, has always had harry, and will probably always have harry. the idea of loving someone and not having them is completely foreign to louis.

he half laughs, throws back another shot that tastes like burnt rubber and liquorice and burn.

but he can't speak, can't work his mouth around the burning lump in his throat. for the first time in his life he can't force his mouth to form the lie that comes nearly as naturally as breathing to him.

(fine)

 

it hovers on the tip of his tongue, but maybe it's one lie too many tonight and the iceberg floats on the water, luminescent in the dark.

he hesitates too long, the chance is gone. all his chances are gone. he opens his mouth, to say yes or fine or sure and that's not what falls out.

"no," he tells louis, and the damn breaks in the mountains.

"i'm sorry," louis says quietly, arm warm and too small and too squishy and too not-liam around his shoulder.

"what for?" zayn challenges bitterly, taking a swallow of an amber liquid in front of him. "i'm sorry i asked a stupid question?

i'm sorry you fell in love with someone who could never love you back?

i'm sorry you were never brave enough to say anything and now it's too late?

i'm sorry he was always so oblivious and made you his best man at his wedding?

i'm sorry you have so much to regret?"

"just," louis trails off. "he's happy, you know." it feels like a condemnation.

"i know," zayn tells him, and he does know. he does know liam's happy, so happy, which is why he's still sitting here, still at this wedding, why he's still drinking and still wondering if anyone here would miss him at all. because he couldn't make liam unhappy in any way, and so he sits at the bar and graces this place with his agonising presence because liam wanted him here and liam is smiling. liam's always lit up rooms with his smile. 

"you're a good man, zayn," louis tells him, and he squeezes his shoulders before he stands. he drops a kiss on the top of zayn's head and it almost feels like absolution.

but then he sees louis walk straight into the waiting arms of harry and they twirl beautifully on the dance floor together, two sleek black suits and shiny shoes and adoration burning in their eyes.

no. not quite absolution.

he's still drowning, but now he's wondering if he fell or jumped. because the ocean is beginning to taste like whiskey and what he's drinking begins to taste like salt.

he's got no hope, and a hopeless man has nothing.

"speech!" niall hollers from back over by the bridal table, and when he summons the energy to turn his head, niall's standing on the white table, three sheets to the wind, red cheeks and bright eyes.

"we've already had speeches you irish drunkard!" someone yells back, and the rooms collectively laughs.

"hush," niall tells him, obviously unconcerned. the dj obligingly turns the music down. zayn almost feels the urge to laugh. almost.

"i just wanna say," niall begins, slurring happily. "that i love you liam. and i love your wife. but i also love zayn -"

zayn's heart stops for a second, cold adrenaline flooding his system. fight or flight. he can't decide. flight. he wants to run.

"- and i love louis." zayn breathes out. maybe he isn't wording the ruin of zayn's world. maybe he isn't standing on his white covered soap box and declaring zayn's pathetic love to the world; who happened to be standing in a black suit with her on his arm.

"and i love harry. and i'm just saying that i couldn't have asked for a better family. and even though you might be married now liam, you aren't getting rid of us. ever."

niall suddenly plops on the table, cross legged and smiling goofily, and the room chuckles fondly.

"love you too, man," liam tells him, and zayn's throat tightens. liam's arm is under niall's shoulders, and he looks up, making eye contact with zayn adn louis and harry in turn.

"i love you all," and no, zayn's eyes aren't brighter and no, he isn't clenching his fists to fight off the onslaught of familial love.

harry and louis call out their love too, and the room is smiling at them all. zayn says nothing, just raises his glass in a toast to the boys without looking at anyone. he doesn't leave his place at the bar, and he knows it's nothing less than what most of the guests expect.

 

let them judge.

 

the alcohol is blurring zayn's eyes, and it almost fogs out liam's wife in his arms, almost blots out everything but liam and his estatic face, lit up and shining and maybe it's not the alcohol. the liquid on his face is slightly too salty to be spilt vodka, and he furiously brushes his face with his sleeve.

he won't cry. he chose this, a long time ago. he chose to let this happen, let liam love someone.

he wonders how much he would have to drink to turn his blood into alcohol. because maybe this would hurt less if his traitorous heart was pumping vodka.

 

(i'm cutting you off, kid)

 

"fuck you," he tells the bartender.

 

they're calling his name, the four of them, arms around each other, dancing chaotically on the dance floor. reluctantly, he gets up and joins them, the shiny floor undulating in waves under the soles of his shoes. he slots in between liam and niall, looking at louis and harry together across their tight circle. they're looking at him with pity in their eyes, but with an undercurrant of the kind of content one only has when they're secure in their belief that the one they love loves them back.

zayn blinks and looks away.

he ducks away when the song finishes, preferring to find a dark corner to sit in and watch the world pass by. he wonders about everyone, what their story is, what they're hiding. what secrets they have, locked up tight and deep. who they have loved, what they've done. because if no one has guessed that the best man is in love with the groom, when it's this all-consuming, terrifying, huge secret, then what could everyone else be hiding?

it's a terrifying thought, and zayn feels sick with it. 

the clock announces midnight, and mr and mrs liam payne announce their departure. zayn clings to sanity. barely.

the guests that are left file out to watch the newlyweds drive off, and zayn feels sick. weak. pathetic. he hates feeling this, he can't stand it, and not for the first time he almost wishes he never met liam payne. but he can't fool even himself into believing that, because liam has always been everything that is good in zayn's life. 

liam and his wife hug him goodbye, and surrounded by the smell of liam, "i love you" slips out before he can think about it.

"i love you too, mate," liam says, laughing, and zayns smiles through a newly rebreaking heart.

and then they get into the car, they shut the door and they drive off. no squealing tires, no dramatic exit. just a calm and quick break from zayns life.

he falls to his knees.

 

(does any person here have any reason why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony?)


End file.
